Deadly Encounter

by DiAnn Mills

  “Okay.” She watched him leave, then stared into her boy’s face. “Fight, Whitt.”

  DURING THE EARLY HOURS of the morning, Alex and Ric sat across from Ace McMann at an FBI interview table. According to him, he hadn’t seen or heard anything to implicate Reynold in any of the crimes.

  “Reynold told me I had the makings of a soldier, and he could use me. The best way to help their cause was for me to lead them to Whitt and the dog.” McMann wrung his shaking hands. He was in need of a drink. “What was I thinking? I could have helped the cops find Whitt when they asked.” He peered up with reddened eyes. “Is my boy gonna live?”

  “We don’t know yet. Some victims responded to treatment within hours.” Alex bore his stare into Ace. “But the survivors were given the antibiotics in the early stages. What more can you tell us?”

  “The one thing I know is Reynold wanted to use the dog’s blood to make a virus that a drone could spray into large populated areas.”

  “How did you feel about his plan?”

  Ace shrugged. “He was going to make me a real soldier. Somebody important.”

  Alex and Ric left Ace with police officers and observed Doug Reynold through a one-way window. He wore a smirk with his arms wrapped around his chest. A tattoo of an exploding cannon burst across a bulging right arm.

  Alex opened the door and greeted him. “Mr. Reynold, we just finished talking to Ace McMann, and he tells me you wanted the infected dog for a special project, specifically spraying the disease into large communities.”

  “You believe a drunk?”

  “How’s that working for you since you’re sitting here with us?”

  Reynold cursed. “What do you want from me?”

  “Yesterday evening you lied to federal agents about the location of Ace McMann.”

  “Have no idea how he ended up on my land.”

  “Really? You two looked real cozy when you left together. For your information, McMann signed an affidavit confirming your plans for the diseased dog.”

  Reynold sneered. “That’ll get thrown out of court, given his record. I mean, he was leaving his kid to die in the woods.”

  “He carried him out.”

  “Whatever. He’d never watched anyone die before, thought it would be fun.”

  “Did you murder Todd Howe?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know who killed him?”

  “I never met the man.”

  At least he hadn’t lawyered up. “At this point, you’re facing charges of domestic terrorism. I suggest you take up knitting because you’re going to have a lot of free time.”

  Reynold stared into an empty corner. “You have nothing on me but trying to help a man find his son.”

  “What can you tell us about a stolen military-grade quadcopter?”

  A muscle twitched beneath Reynold’s eye. “I’m ready to make a deal. But first I want my lawyer present.”

  “Sure, we’ll get your lawyer. One of your rights under our Constitution, the document you claim to despise.”

  Arrogance seeped from the pores of his skin. “Not a word more.”

  Alex and Ric stood, but the big man interrupted. “Look, I know what happened to Howe. When my attorney’s present, I’ll tell you.”

  Stacy sat beside Whitt’s hospital bed and watched his chest slowly rise and fall. The only sound came from the low hum of nurses’ voices outside the room and the steady beep of monitors. God, please take care of him.

  Dad and Mom kept vigil and prayed with her as if he were their own. Whitt’s body had taken a beating with the prolonged fever—104.2 when he arrived at the hospital. Monitors kept track of his vitals. IVs transported life into his body.

  Whitt. Let me see your eyes.

  Mom eased up from her chair. “Cafeteria food is horrible, but I’ll pick us up something for dinner. Maybe they have different cooks on the weekend. Any requests?”

  When Stacy and her dad ordered only coffee, she left the room.

  A perky nurse flitted into the room and took Whitt’s temperature. “Good,” she said. “His fever is down to 102.5.” She replaced an IV bag and checked his pulse.

  “When will he wake up?”

  The nurse’s up mood took a nosedive. “I’m sorry—there’s no way to predict that. He’s a sick boy. Has your doctor been in today?”

  “Yes.” Was this a nice way of telling her Whitt might not survive?

  The nurse glanced at Whitt’s chart. “I suggest talking to Dr. Maberry.” She smiled and left the room.

  “Hey, little girl.” Dad’s voice broke the silence. “Dexter tells me researchers are working night and day on a serum.”

  “The process could take months.” She massaged her neck while watching Whitt’s face.

  He pulled a chair to her side. “Talk to me. About anything. Whitt. The clinic. Alex.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m dying on the inside, a slow bleed.”

  “Losing someone we love is the hardest test of our faith.”

  KaraLee. Of course he understood how she felt. “I can’t let it stop me from feeling.”

  “Because if you do, your heart will dry up.”

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  “Yep. Took a long time for me to allow God back in, and once I did, I found peace.”

  She snuggled close to him while holding Whitt’s hand. “Me too. I have no regrets with Whitt. I healed from KaraLee’s death through him. But if I lose him, I’m not sure how I’ll respond to life.”

  He squeezed her shoulders. “Promise me you won’t abandon God.”

  Her mind swept over the years of heartache before she inched back to the God who’d never let her go. The misery of living life alone preyed on her heart. “I promise,” she whispered.

  “That’s my girl. Now, we’re going to talk about you. Cher, I like Alex. He shows his caring.”

  “We’re barely friends.”

  “That’s how me and your mother got started.”

  “I want a threesome, a family.”

  “So do I, sweet girl. So do I.”

  ALEX LEANED BACK in his chair and observed Doug Reynold. He’d lawyered up, and now his attorney sat before him and Ric. Once Private Wilcox learned Reynold was in custody, he named him as the buyer of the quadcopter and the man who’d shot and killed his partner. The FBI had evidence that Reynold had contracted for the stolen quadcopter, but additional charges gave him more years behind bars than Reynold had left. But more questions remained: Who’d killed Todd Howe and why?

  “Mr. Reynold,” Alex began, “you stated during our last conversation that you knew what happened to Todd Howe, resulting in his death.”

  “Correct. I saw him shot.”

  “You stood in the clearing and observed the shooting?”

  “No.” Reynolds rubbed his face.

  “Then how did you view it?”

  “Computer. At my ranch.”

  “I don’t understand.” But he did. Alex wanted him to confess to his crime.

  His brows narrowed. “I was monitoring the quadcopter, just to see how it would operate.”

  “The one stolen from Fort Benning.”

  “The quadcopter was given to me as a gift. Had no idea it had been stolen.”

  “Really. The military-grade design didn’t raise any red flags?”

  Reynold’s attorney interrupted. “Agent LeBlanc, my client has stated he didn’t know the device was property of the US Army.”

  “All right.” Alex fought to rein in his frustration. He had no intentions of arguing with Reynold since Wilcox had signed a confession. “Through the quadcopter’s camera, you saw Howe die.”

  “I did. It was flying low, losing battery. One man pulled a gun, and a second man held a leash to the dog. The dog pulled and nudged the man with the gun, and he lost balance. The gun fired wildly, repeatedly, and hit the second man in the chest. The animal limped as though it had stepped on something sharp or was grazed by a bullet. Anyw
ay the man kept shooting at the quadcopter and ran off, leaving the body and the dog.” He arched his shoulders. “Howe’s death was an accident.”

  Why had Connor called Bekah? It served to lead Alex and Ric to him. . . . Could his mental issues have altered his thinking? Was he tired of working for Jensen? Feeling guilt for killing Howe? Investigators might never know the answer.

  While exiting the room, Alex unmuted his phone only to have a text almost immediately alert him. It was from Taylor Freeman at Hooks Airport. He called her back.

  “You requested I contact you if I saw the man you’re looking for,” Taylor said. “I took an extra shift, or I wouldn’t be making this call.”

  All senses fired alert. “You’ve seen him?”

  “Yes, sir. Less than an hour ago, a man fitting the description of Jensen Phillips landed an aircraft here. He had a yellow Lab with him.”

  “Did you watch him leave?”

  “A taxi picked him up, and I have the license plate number. Before you called, I double-checked his photo with what’s been posted online.”

  Adrenaline coursed through Alex’s body. He ended the call with Taylor Freeman and fed the license plate number of the taxi through the system with a BOLO.

  BEFORE THE SUN ROSE, Stacy drove into her dimly lit neighborhood. The clinic caught her eye, and the light she normally left on in the rear wasn’t on. Doc Kent had promised to handle her responsibilities until she could step back into her role as a veterinarian, and he must have turned it off. She’d stop on her way out and take care of it. Total darkness invited vandalism.

  The more Dad and Mom complained about where she lived, the more she saw her home through their eyes. Not a place to raise Whitt. She struggled for a moment. She’d left the hospital when her parents insisted she take a few hours at home to shower and change clothes. They’d call if any change occurred. She agreed when Whitt’s temp dropped to 101.5. The antibiotics must be working, but he hadn’t opened his eyes.

  If only she felt better. The antibiotics upset her stomach, or maybe it was the brucellosis. Combine that with the headache and exhaustion, and her energy level hit zero.

  She pulled into her driveway and stared at her small home with its single garage. Too many things stored there to park her truck inside. Flowers and a green, mowed lawn showed her caring, but not when she needed two padlocks and an alarm system. Grabbing her purse, she felt the weight of the revolver Dad had dropped into it.

  Once inside her home, the door behind her secured, she hurried to the bathroom for a shower and to wash her hair. As much as she sensed guilt about leaving Whitt, the water cleansing her body refreshed her. A short while later, she left her home, encouraged and ready to face whatever lay ahead.

  She steered her truck to the parking lot of the clinic. A quick trip. Five minutes. That’s all.

  She released her seat belt, lifted her purse onto her shoulder, and hurried inside. A click of a light, and her world came alive. But she couldn’t leave without experiencing it. The faint smells of animals and sterile conditions were like sweet perfume, and no one but a vet would ever really understand. Whitt did. Maybe Alex did a little.

  A walk to where she performed surgeries came next. White. Chrome. Clean. Ready to save an animal or give it quality of life. Sighing, she folded her arms and leaned against the doorway. Her passion tugged at her heart.

  The next stop was the kennel. Doc Kent’s crew had done a superb job in cleaning and disinfecting the area to make it free of all diseases.

  A squeak sounded from the reception area, then the distinct click of the door locking from the inside. She whirled around. The light in the waiting area vanished as well as one outside. She chilled. Had she forgotten to lock the door behind her?

  The revolver in her purse . . . Could she ever use it on a human being?

  “Hello,” she called. “Who’s there?”

  The distinct patter of a dog alerted her. “Do you have need of a vet?”

  “I do,” a man said.

  “I’m closed. Doc Kent about fifteen minutes from here can help you.”

  The figure drew closer. “I really came to see you.” He adjusted what she believed was a backpack on his shoulder.

  From the dim light in the kennel, a Lab approached with a man beside her.

  “Sophie, this is the lady who’s been taking care of your daughter.”

  Stacy froze. “Jensen Phillips?”

  “How did you guess?” He pointed a semiautomatic at her. “I need answers.”

  A text flew into Alex’s and Ric’s cell phones with an alert. The taxi driver had dropped off Jensen Phillips at an Avis office in Tomball. According to the car rental business, a man matching Jensen’s description picked up a Honda Civic, using the name and credit card of a Jacob Smith.

  “HPD is on it,” Ric said. “It’s only a matter of time until we pick him up.”

  Alex phoned Dexter. “Be careful. We believe Jensen Phillips is on his way for Xena.”

  “He won’t get past this force. To think, this is about over.”

  “I’ll feel better when he’s cuffed,” Alex said. “Ric and I are on our way.” He ended the call. “Ready?”

  “Let’s go.”

  “I’m calling Stacy on the way,” Alex said. “Even if I wake her up in the hospital, she’ll want to know the update.” En route to the parking lot, he pressed in her number. It rang four times and went to voice mail. “Stacy, we have a lead on Jensen Phillips. I’ll contact you when I know more.”

  “Odd she didn’t answer.” Ric climbed into Alex’s Jeep on the passenger side.

  A bit of apprehension snaked up his spine and he called her dad. “Sir, this is Alex LeBlanc. Is Stacy nearby?”

  “No, she left about an hour and a half ago to take a shower. I expect her soon.”

  “When she arrives, would you have her text me?”

  “Sure.”

  “How’s Whitt?”

  “Temp is 101.5, and he’s sleeping.”

  “All right. Talk to you soon.” He attempted to contact her again. Nothing. “Stacy is at home. I don’t like this.”

  “Bro, drive her direction.”

  He blew out his fears and drew in agent mode. “Have I lost it? With Stacy as hostage, he can gain access to Xena.”

  “Jensen’s unstable and could do anything.”

  Alex turned onto the 290 and headed north. “To think we agree.”

  “Phenomenal. But I’m right there with you.”

  He swung his Jeep into the subdivision. Stacy’s truck was the lone vehicle in the clinic parking lot. He’d not relax until he had eyes on her.

  HOW COULD STACY talk down this madman who was pointing a gun at her chest? Jensen Phillips loved dogs. According to Alex, he treasured them more than humans. She understood.

  “I’ve heard you have your doctorate in veterinary medicine. Possibly a postdoctoral degree program in clinical pathology?”

  “I do.”

  “Congratulations. I hope to one day have the same expertise.”

  “Clinical pathology?”

  “I want to be a front-runner in extinguishing animal diseases.” She sighed. “One of the reasons I despise what happened to Xena.”

  He twisted his head in question.

  “Sophie’s daughter. We named her Xena. It means ‘hospitable’ in Greek.”

  “Fits. Never knew what Connor named her.”

  “Did he inject her with the brucellae?” Stacy forced indignation into her voice and clenched her fists.

  Jensen nodded. “But I gave it to him.”

  “Why?”

  “A temporary situation to accomplish my purpose in life.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “My actions have destroyed my uncle’s business. Although his attorney will manage to exonerate him, too many other things point to his unscrupulous activities.”

  “You mean when you killed Howard Dottia?”

  “He got in my way. Uncle Russ is too s
tupid to plan the perfect crime. That’s why it was so easy to set him up. I’m leaving this country as soon as I have Sophie’s daughter. Overseas, I’ll be able to continue my life’s work. My canine vitamins are the best available.”

  She touched her chest. She needed to keep stalling him. “Then you must have a serum?”

  “I do.” He patted the backpack on his shoulder. “And it works. Connor received one of the three doses. He was my human guinea pig. But he had to be eliminated before he talked. His depression was ruining the mission. Guards are so easily bought.”

  She wanted to end the discussion about whom he’d killed before he pulled the trigger on her. “Thank you for developing the serum.”

  “Actually I stumbled onto the strain while perfecting the cure. I kept modifying the bacteria and testing it with my serum. My findings are revolutionary.”

  “I know Xena needs it, but I don’t have her here.”

  “I’m fully aware of where she’s being held. You’re going to help me save her from those insane researchers.”

  “How, Jensen?”

  “I can see straight through you, Stacy. You’re on their side.”

  “I’m on the side of every hurting animal.”

  “I have no reason to trust you. Unfortunately, you’ll be eliminated when I have Xena. Might even keep the name.”

  “Since you plan to kill me, how did you mastermind all of this? The water hoax. Walter M. Brown Investments. My clinic tapped. The photos of Whitt in my newspaper.”

  “Sure, I have nothing to lose. Blaming the water for infecting people was a no-brainer. People here don’t use a doctor unless they’re dying. Rather ironic, don’t you think? Connor took the photos, but I flew in and placed them in your paper.” Jensen’s tone remained calm, controlled. “In short, I had a plan. Howe and Connor were college buds who knew too much. Howe was becoming too ambitious, demanding more money to go nationwide with his pitiful restaurant business. Said his family deserved the best. Connor started to slip with mental issues, making serious errors. But anyway, we started working together in our days at Purdue.”

  “Doing what?”